A Stranger's Tale in a Stranger Land
by Hyper Deathray
Summary: After faking her own death, Quicksword Irene sought escape from her world, and set sail for another one... Claymore/Naruto x-over
1. New Kids on the Block I

**A Stranger's Tale in a Stranger Land**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own either Claymore or Naruto, and no, I'm not telling you who do. Wiki it.

**Summary: **After faking her own death, Quicksword Irene sought escape from her world, and set sail for another...

* * *

Even though the captain had announced that land had been sighted over an hour ago, the ship continued pitching back and forth, like an ornery horse that wasn't used to the saddle. And Irene for one was sick of it. Of course, she was in no condition to complain, considering that she was lucky to have just _this. _And '_this'_ consisted of the cargo hold of the merchantman _Snarling Whale. _Its rat-infested, dark, and miasmic interior had been her home for the months long voyage across the great ocean. To the outside observer, she projected a sense of elegant indifference to her environment. But in her heart, she was sick of it.

Still, she had to admit, the prize was worth the price. Since the New World had been discovered less than two decades ago by explorers, voyages were still sporadic and limited. Only the bold and adventurous, who saw nothing but gold and treasure as they sailed their ships on missions of trade or plunder dared to make the perilous journey across the ocean that had never been put into navigational charts.

Well, and people like her.

People like her for one reason or another didn't fit into society and had no choice but to flee, as far as possible on pain of death. Once, she had been a powerful warrior of a special breed of warriors, all of them women who were once little girls with no place in society. Some were orphans. Others were foundlings. And for every one of them, one day a man dressed in black and come and claimed them, luring them with promises of power, promises of vengeance, to fight against the great enemy of all humanity.

The training was brutal, but the men in black cared not. They culled the weak and harvested the strong, assured that there was an infinite, cheap supply of female outcasts that society had no use for, except for what they were being trained for. They were to be humanity's saviors and the Organization's assets. To ordinary people, they were silver-eyed witches, their identity tied to the massive blades they wielded. Claymores.

And how ironic that the power of Claymores sprouted from the very enemies they were trained to kill. She, like every other warrior, derived her power from a lump of foul demon. It made them stronger. It made them faster. It made them youthful forever. It gave them the power those men promised. And it severed their link to humanity. With it, humanity's gratitude to its saviors was always lukewarm.

And now, she dared to leave such a life, a capital crime according to the rules of the organization. Once they enveloped their claws around a young girl, they squeezed until all the juice was out. Most Claymores died in combat, battling demons that preyed on the helpless. Others…

Thinking of those other fates made her twitch her face, in a way that the foul stench of this cargo hold could not. So, faced with the prospect of a life she did not want to continue, she had faked her own death and sought to flee elsewhere. And the place this ship was sailing towards was the farthest place from the world she knew.

She had no idea what kind of world was waiting to greet her on the approaching shore. Tales from drunken sailors flowed and circulated through the masses eager for news, filling their heads with stories of natives with magic that cures the sick and destroys entire cities. Of giant animals that lived, waiting to feast upon human flesh. And of gold, yes, lots and lots of gold. Gold and silver and gems all so common, they were as precious as rocks on a shore. In short, she knew nothing. But that didn't stop her.

As she sat contemplating the circumstances that carried her to this point, the _Snarling Whale _sailed into port. Its design unmistakably foreign to any watcher as she docked in this land that the natives called Wave Country. In the hold, Irene noted the creaking of wood, and the bright lance of light that shone down, a sight that she had quickly learned to treasure as the voyage went on. Calmly, she stood up, picking up a satchel of her meager belonging. She wore a simple traveler's hooded cloak. Underneath it, she wore a brown armless leather tunic. A layer of bandages covered the stump where her left arm had been. Dark pants and sturdy boots completed her outfit. The massive sword that characterized those like her she kept wrapped in cloth and strapped on her back. Its awkward shape jutted out from underneath the cloak. Idly, she wondered if she should have disposed of the blade. Although its weight was of no consequence for her, a smaller and lighter blade would have been better. But in a moment of weakness, sentimentality had triumphed over reason and she had decided to take it with her.

_A last piece of home?_ She wondered. Home was across thousands of leagues of ocean now, and she did not miss it. Still, she supposed that the familiar weight of it felt comfortable and made her feel safe from whatever dangers awaited her. The timbers of the hold creaked as she walked towards the light and up the steps onto the deck of the merchantman. The bright sunlight momentarily forced her to narrow her eyes into slits; such was its intensity for her eyes after living in darkness for so long. She smelled the tang of saltwater and heard the cries of seagulls. The air tasted so fresh. But this was no time to be relaxing as the captain of the ship came marching up to her.

He was a big and beefy looking fellow. So were his two friends behind him armed with cutlasses. He mentioned something or another about payment, but she wasn't sure. She just wanted to tune everything out and keep absorbing the atmosphere. Awkwardly with her teeth and right arm, she reached into the satchel and held the purse that contained the second half of the money she had promised for smuggling her across the ocean. She let so and the weight landed with a cheerful jingle in the captain's waiting hand. He grinned in avarice and started counting the money right on the spot. But Irene paid him no mind. She waited in silence until the man was satisfied. And it looked like he was. The bow he gave her as she walked to the rope ladder that would carry her down was polite enough. The solid swat across her backside and the leer was anything but. Nonetheless, she climbed down without a second glance.

The port city in front of her looked familiar yet different. There was no doubt that this was a port city. Other ships were docked here at the harbor. Some of them were as large as the merchantman. Workers hauled barrels and crates to and from those ships as busy as a line of ants. There were shops and stalls everywhere along the wharf, displaying everything from trinkets to live animal performances with monkeys and mice jumping through hoops with a live lion caged in the back. She walked along the dock. The people here looked different. Most of them had black hair and slit eyes and generally stood shorter than she was. Some of them turned to look at her, her exotic features standing out. A couple of them whispered amongst themselves. She had no idea what they were talking about, but the term '_gai-jin_' seemed to be on everyone's lips. Irene supposed that would be the first order of business. She had to learn the language from somebody. And this port was a good place to start looking for tutors. It was one of the regular places where trade took place. _Now where do I find a merchant or seaman who with knowledge of their language…_

No sooner had she finished that thought when she felt herself flying through the air. There was nothing but a flash of light to her left and suddenly she found herself landing with a thud that made her wince. As she laid on the ground, men and women scrambled around like headless chicken. Dumbly, she realized that she couldn't hear anything. The last thing she remembered hearing was the loud boom before her rude flight. Suddenly, she realized another thing. Her cloak was burning. But before she could get up, she saw a pair of feet approaching her and someone yank the cloak off of her. Whoever it was, he was vigorously stamping out the flames with his sandaled feet. She looked up and saw a man with unruly red hair. He wore the black pants and long-sleeved tunic that she had seen were common with people here, but this man didn't look like one of them. As there eyes met, she saw the shock of recognition and later the look of revulsion and fear.

_No, definitely not a native. He knows exactly what I am._

_

* * *

_Whistling as he went, Griffith walked without a care in the world. He had walked down the same road a hundred times before and the way his life was going, he would probably grow old and die in this town. Today the sky was cloudless and the sun beat down warmly while the sea breeze blew against him. Yes, it was a good day for catching fish. Ahead he could see the docks and the boatyard, where the small fishing boat he owned was docked. The little boat was the most precious thing he owned, it being the only thing that fed him. He supposed that once upon a time, he would have been disappointed with this time. Yes, he had been much more adventurous, and would never have tolerated the meager existence he had now. But ironically, it had been that adventurousness that led to his life today.

To his mild surprise, everything was not the same it had been yesterday. A ship was docking; its shape, its lines, everything about it screaming its foreign origin. It was no surprise that ships from his side of the world did occasionally sail here. Why, they might even be carrying young men, all ready to escape the boring monotony of their lives and bet on the sea, like he had been. Staring at the unbroken hull and the intact sails, a touch of bitterness came over him.

His life had been bound to the sea since he was thirteen, starving and running from the demons of his past, when he had stowed away on a ship like that one. Over the years, the filthy boy grew into a sailor. When the ship had set sail for the New World, he had been all for it, only seeing the rumors of wealth beyond imagining and nothing else. The crew soon found their enthusiasm curbed as the untrustworthiness of the sea charts was exposed as their ship found itself beset by storms where there were none mentioned. And the ship had arrived at its destination, battered beyond repair, half the crew dead, and the rest of them destitute and stranded in a foreign land.

Considering everything that had happened, he supposed things could have been worse. An old woman he passed gave him a dirty look. Yes, much worse. He stood out in this place, not because he was from another land, but because of what he done here in this land. He had been one of the more fortunate survivors of that ill-fated expedition. Griffith had walked around in rags along the coast begging with hand signs for food. In time, he had learned how to speak the local language. And it was then that he came to be in service of the business mogul Gatou. Gatou needed henchmen who weren't squeamish about breaking heads and Griffith needed to eat. And everything had worked out, until Gatou died. When that happened, he was out of a job again. And now, he lived here, amongst unforgiving people who remembered who he had worked for, too poor and unsure about prospects elsewhere to move.

As he reminisced, Griffith noticed a man walking through the crowd towards him. He waved. "Ah, good morning, Griffith-san."

"Good morning, Saito-san." He answered. Saito was the wealthiest of the merchants in town. Griffith had a good idea what he wanted. "I assume you wanted to talk about the ship that just docked?"

"Exactly. The ship is carrying a load of goods that are of interest to me." Saito said as they walked together. "I need you as an interpreter with me at the meeting with her captain. I'll pay the usual fee. What do you say?"

"All right, I'll do it." Griffith responded. He did this sort of thing as a side job, since travel across the ocean was so infrequent. But when opportunity came knocking… _Well, it beats fishing. _"I'll be down at the docks when you need me."

"Ah, excellent!" Saito said cheerfully. "I'm meet you them this afternoon. Until then, goodbye." With one last wave, he walked off, leaving Griffith who whose spirits were much lifted at the prospects of more cash in his pockets. He walked with a slight smile as the ship in front of him got bigger and bigger until he could see the individual sailors as they hauled crates and barrels out of the ship. And since he was in such a good mood, he even fantasized about stowing away on this ship, and going back home. _Home…_

And as if struck by lightning, his mind violently pushed that fantasy away. No, home was here now. Everything he had cared about was dead. There was nothing back home for him. There was-

Suddenly, a roar that sounded like the end of the world assaulted his ears. His body jerked by instinct, startled. It took him a moment to overcome the panic and assess the situation. In front of him, one of the ships docked was nothing but a flaming wreck now. A thick cloud of smoke rose into the sky. He wondered what could have caused the explosion. Could it have been an accident? Could the ship had been carrying oil or gunpowder?

From his position, Griffith could see sailors from the ships next to the wrecks passing buckets of waters, putting out the fires that dangerously blew closer to their vessels. Meanwhile, people who had been closer to the explosion were either picking themselves off the ground with difficulty or not moving at all. Along with many others, Griffith charged forward to help. The closest person that he saw who was in need of help was lying down on the ground, unmoving, clearly thrown backwards by the blast. To make matters worse, the cloak he or she wore was on fire. He scrambled forward furiously and ripped the burning cloak off before stamping it repeatedly with his feet. As the last of the flames were put out, he finally set his eyes on the one whom he just saved. It took him less than a second to realize that the person was a woman. It took him another second to realize that the woman lacked a left arm. But before he could begin to ask if she was all right, he noticed the pale, almost colorless hair, and the silver eyes.

And compassion turned to hatred.

* * *

She walked through the crowd with trained grace. The people going about their work paid no attention to the slight cloaked figure moving amongst them. As the explosion thundered in the distance, the crowd reacted as they should have. They panicked, they rallied, or they just kept gawking. She did none of these things. Quickly slipping into an empty alley, she abandoned her previously walking pace and rushed forward, navigating the alleys with the speed of someone who knew her way. Indeed, the location of the safehouse, and the way to get there the fastest, were in no ways secret to her.

She knew exactly what that explosion had been. After all, she was the cause of it. As she made a sharp right turn in her sprint, she thanked the incompetence of her would be murderers for screwing up the timing on whatever trap they set on the ship that had brought her here.

Now, she had a delivery to make.

With one last look behind her to check for any tails, she knocked the backdoor in the way that the code specified. A muffled voice answered her.

"It's open." She turned the doorknob cautiously and stepped inside. The room was dark and full of boxes in every corner, obviously a storeroom of some kind. In front of her was an old man of average height, overweight, and smiling friendly at her. She didn't buy it for a second, for she knew that the man in front of her was no ordinary shopkeeper. She closed the door.

"Well?" The man asked. She reached and pulled the scroll out of her cloak.

"Here." She tossed it at him, who deftly caught it. Opening the scroll and scanning the contents, his smile widened.

"Very good." His head nodded up and down. "Yes, very good. So, this is it. The infamous _Fushi Tensei_, Orochimaru's immortality jutsu. You've done well."

"I've also got half of the Sound Village out looking for me." She said without a moment of self-congratulation. "That explosion in the harbor? That was them. I've done my share. It's your turn now."

"I understand." The man sealed the scroll and tucked it into a travel bag. "Well, it's time for me to take a vacation to Water Country, and back to our masters in the Mist Village, don't you think?"

"You've better go now. There wasn't anyone following me when I came in."

"All right. I'll be going now. Behind the boxes to your right, there's a hidden entrance to a tunnel that will take you out of town. Just release the seal and the fuuinjutsu will fall." The man started walking away, but then stopped and turned around. "Just curious, what's your name?"

"It's Mikuru." She automatically told him the codename given to her for this mission. "Why?"

"Oh nothing," He said with a leer. "Always good to know who one's friends are."

_Worst pick-up line, ever. _"Just get moving, old man." Mikuru told him coldly. "And I _don't_ want to know who you are, 'friend'".

"Well, fair enough." He conceded and left, leaving her in the storage room by herself. It took a while to find a candle amongst all the other things and move the boxes out of the way. When she did, she undid the seal around the wall as the old man had said, and the wall shimmered, revealing the tunnel that had been promised. She stepped inside, with only the candle for dim illumination.

Mice scurried out of her way as she batted spiders' webs out of her way. Idly, she wondered just how extensive her village's connections were in this backwater part of the world. A tunnel like this would have helped a lot on her last mission…

It took her over an hour walking through the tunnel to reach the end, where there was a dead end and a ladder. Putting down the sputtering candle, she gripped the rungs and climbed up. Then, pulling down the rope that opened a trapdoor, she ascended back to the surface. The tunnel did indeed lead her out of the town. Looking around, Mikuru could only see wilderness around her. She quickly jumped and climbed up a tree to get a better view from above. Seeing the road leading south not far away, she smiled. _Perfect._ _Just the way I want to go._

If that old man were here, he'd no doubt ask why she wasn't heading back to the village. And then, Mikuru would have had to kill him. After all, some secrets were more secret than others. Like the second, duplicate scroll she kept on her. Like the buyer she found willing to pay big money for such a juicy secret. Like her retirement plans…

A scream in the distance brought her back to reality. Whipping her head in its general direction, Mikuru could spot several people gathered together ahead of her on the road. Cautiously, she silently jumped from tree to tree to get a closer look. As she approached, she thought she could make out one of the figures.

Oh no…Not him…

But it was just who she hoped it was not. The pale skin and long black hair, both belonging to Orochimaru himself. And even worse for her was the corpse he was standing over. She could tell at a glance what had happened here. That stupid idiot of a courier got himself intercepted by one of the scariest man in the world. Mikuru could see her future disappearing has she saw Orochimaru address the men around him. At his command, they jumped away and spread themselves out around the forest. She was trapped. Maybe they thought that they had gotten lucky with the bomb on the ship. Well, now they knew that someone gave that man the scroll and that certain someone happened to be her.

_Shit! I can't believe this._ She swore and thought frantically. Getting out through the forest was not practical. That was what she allowed herself to think anyway. Deep in her mind, behind her pride, she saw Orochimaru and couldn't help but turn away. Getting out by road in a disguise was also obviously not an option. For stealing his most precious secret, Mikuru had no doubt that Orochimaru would kill every person, burn every wagon, crate, or box coming out of the town just on the off chance of killing her.

No, the only way was backwards. The only exit left was through the port. If these bastards didn't have radios, it's unlikely that that their pals who tried to blow her up back on the docks knew she was still alive. Even if they did, she'd take her chances with them. Stealthily, she moved backwards until she reached the mouth of the tunnel again. Going back inside, she moved a lot faster through the tunnel than the first time. She figured it was only a matter of time before they asked around and found the little shop that was actually a safehouse. Then, they'd tear it apart and she didn't plan to be there when it happened.

_This is the worst day of my life._

**To be Continued...**_  
_


	2. New Kids on the Block II

**Chapter 2

* * *

**

The two of them stared at each other. Irene decided to break the uncomfortable silence first. "Thank you for your assistance." She got up and looked at him face to face. "Can you understand me?"

"One of you? A Claymore? Here?" He asked incredulously. Well, that erased all doubts about his origins.

"Yes, that is what I am." Irene thought quickly. Even in the face of a disaster, she sought to turn the situation to her advantage. This man just might be the one she needed. "But more importantly, there are people here more needy of help than myself." As she looked around, scores of people laid unmoving. She finally looked at what had flung her through the air. The doomed ship was already sinking to the bottom of the harbor.

"Yes…I-I suppose you're right." He responded, clearly still wary of her, but forced to concede that her words had sense. "Let's go an- oh, no…" The man ran forward, toward the burning ship. Irene paused long enough to collect her satchel and ran after him. It wasn't until they'd passed the ship that she realized the man was racing toward a small boat instead. To her, it looked liked the boat had in a huge stroke of bad luck been hit with a piece of flaming debris from the explosion. The flames engulfed it completely.

"Oh, no…No!" The man shouted as the ship keeled over and sank. He stopped running and stood there slowly shaking his head. "That was my boat."

"I am sorry to hear that." She replied.

"That was my goddamn _boat_. My goddamn boat that I use to keep me goddamn _fed_!" Irene decided not to respond until the man decided to calm himself. It took several seconds after his tirade that he noticed that she was there. And when he looked at her, Irene could tell that he wished he could blame his misfortune on her. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

His tone was antagonistic and accusing, but she was resigned to such things from humans. It was the price for the second life those men dressed in black had given her. "My name is Irene. I just arrived from the ship that sailed in this morning. This tragedy had nothing to do with me."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." He said with an edge in his voice. Then he sighed. "Well, there are still people to saved. Even though it feels a lot harder to give a damn…" He walked dejectedly to a man who was limping with a leg wound and offered him a hand. Following his example, Irene took the injured man's other arm. Together, they lifted him up gently and carried him.

"Do you know where there is a doctor in this place?" She asked him.

"Yeah, it's…well, it's close." His voice sounded hollow to her. Irene decided to prod some more.

"You haven't introduced yourself." She noted.

"Look, I don't mean to sound rude or anything," He sounded exactly like that to her ears, and patronizing to boot. "But I really could care less about introducing myself to a complete stranger, especially one such as you. So if you don't mind, let's keep to ourselves."

"Really? Considering the circumstances, it seems to me that you could use a friend right now." She reached for a bag tied to her belt and held it in front her, shaking it. The jingling sound of metal was unmistakable. Despite his unease from her presence, the man looked intrigued. "Now, once again. I'm Irene. And you are?"

* * *

Griffith walked with uneasiness from the apothecary's house. In the wake of the major disaster, the local hospital was inundated with victims. So, he took the man with a broken leg here to be treated. Some called the medicine woman a witch, for she dabbled with strange potions and alchemy where other physicians would have trusted in medicine and science. But it was better than nothing. Now, he had a real witch to deal with. Her presence at his side made him uncomfortable in ways that he wished were buried with his past. But just by being there, she released all his demons. Still, a man had to eat.

"All right, that's done. Now, what's your business with me?"

"I noticed that you can speak freely with the people of this land and they respond in kind." She noted.

"Yeah, so?" He was starting to understand her interest in him.

"And do you also possess knowledge of the land? Its people, its culture?" She asked.

"Enough to get by." He admitted. "Yeah, I know enough to point at a map and know where I am, not that I've been to any of those places personally. Planning a little trip?"

"Actually, yes." Well, he'd give her one thing. She was blunt. "I know virtually nothing about this place or how to speak with others. So I am in need of a man like you."

"You still haven't told me where you plan to go." Griffith noticed.

"That's simple." She responded. "Take me to the farthest point away from civilization that you know of, and then leave me there."

* * *

She walked through the streets with newfound urgency. Underneath her hood, Mikuru's eyes scanned diligently at the crowd she walked through. They darted back and forth as she made her way towards the sea. Now that she had time to calm down and think, Mikuru revised her original plan. After a disaster, the port would definitely be closed as an investigation was mounted to find an answer behind the explosion. If she could last until nightfall, she could sneak aboard a small ship and quietly smuggle herself out. The trick was to get the ship moving while her enemies' attention was focused elsewhere. She was still working out that part.

And that wasn't the only thing she had to worry about. As she walked, she could feel unease throughout her body. Instinctively, she knew she was being stalked. The killing intent in the atmosphere was almost palpable. Mikuru quickly made up her mind and changed direction, hoping to draw the assassin to a less crowded area. She walked through the crowd, and then she was gone. Or, at least to the people around her. Darting through the alleys at superhuman speeds, Mikuru passed through residential areas with balconies and laundry hanging between buildings until she was speeding through the alleys dark at night and disgustingly filthy by day. This would have to do as a battlefield. And not totally unexpected, she saw another figure leaping and running towards her. It jumped from rooftop to rooftop and landed in front of her with a thud.

"That's as far as you go." A menacing male voice warned. She looked at the man who had stalked her. Like herself, he wore clothes that revealed nothing, except that he was overweight, and she was sure that in actuality his hulk hid more muscle than fat. Short brown hair, no headband. Yet neither needed to ask who or what the other was. Without any further words, his hands emerged from deep sleeves holding twin hatchets.

With a flick of her wrist, Mikuru brought a hidden scroll into her left hand. Undoing the seal, she snapped it open in front of her with a wave. Smoke erupted as she gripped her own weapon and let the summoning scroll fall. She held a scythe in both hands with the sharp spearhead pointed at him. The man moved into a ready stance. With a battlecry, she charged forward. Mikuru stabbed twice, but each time he deflected the blow with one of his hatchet blades as he backpedaled. She stabbed a third time, but he rolled under the scythe and crouched next to her. Mikuru had to jump away to avoid having her ankles hacked off.

Her enemy quickly stood up and made a charge of his own. With one hatchet held above his head, the man barreled at her with considerable speed. She readied herself by bringing the scythe over her shoulder with both hands. Her muscles were tense, her form perfect. Suddenly, she thrust forward with the speed of a cobra, the spearhead meeting no resistance. A second later, she realized what had happened and instinctively jumped away. There was a thud as the hatchet buried itself in the ground she had been standing on. Now that she got a more complete look at the thing, she could see that the handle was attached to a chain. Her eyes darted quickly and found the man, now bare-chested, holding the chain as he stood on a rooftop above her. With a yank, he pulled the hatchet out of the ground and returned it to his hand as he jumped down to the ground.

Mikuru removed the discarded cloak hanging from her weapon and threw it away. Despite his girth, that man was fast. She quickly readied herself as the man gripped the chain and twirled one of the hatchet blades over his head. They stood several meters apart now, so she figured she could deflect a throw.

As predicted, the man threw the hatchet blade, but not at her. Surprised, she was startled again as the man in front of her disappeared. Only the jiggling of the chain betrayed his location. The hatchet he threw lodged itself into the wall next to her. Mikuru turned around, but the man was already gone. Again, she heard the jiggling of the chain. But this time, she could feel it too. The man smirked and looking back, yanked hard on the chain. He knew from experience that the force of the yank was enough to break necks. The same time it killed the woman, the other hatchet was torn loose from the wall. But the woman did not crumple. Instead, she disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving only her scythe ensnared by the chains.

The real Mikuru muffled his mouth with one hand while sliding a kunai over his throat with the other. But his hand caught her right wrist before she could slit his throat. Mikuru's left hand let go of his mouth as she brought her thumb up, intending to stab him in the eye. With a startled yell, he released her right wrist and suddenly swung his head up. Stunned by the headbutt, Mikuru backpedaled from the force of the blow. She tasted blood in her mouth as she gave a surprised grunt. Acting more from rage and adrenaline than rational thought, the man backhanded her across the face. Then, he gripped her shoulders and connected his kneecap with her gut. Finally, he held her by the back of her neck and threw her indiscriminately at the wall.

Mikuru dimly felt herself fly. Fortunately for her, the man threw her through a window so her head didn't turn into mush. She landed on hard wood and broken glass with a thud. The pain jolted her and she hissed while gritting her teeth. Outside, the man calmed himself and recovered his weapon. After a quick cursory glance, he jumped in through the window. In front of him, Mikuru laid unmoving.

A hiss from beneath his feet diverted his attention. Smoke made his eyes water and he began coughing in surprise. Mikuru's eyes snapped open at the sound of her smoke bomb. Before the man could cough once, she was already on her feet. She dashed forward quickly and jabbed a kunai forward with all her strength. Her slender arm passed between his blades and the point of the knife penetrated his throat. The man died with a gurgle. Mikuru backed away and took deep breaths. She shook herself and pieces of glasses fell from her body. Delicately, she touched her face and wiped blood off with her hand. Her nose wasn't broken, but she imagined that that the beginning of a magnificent bruise was all over her face. She spat on the floor.

"Ow, seriously." She climbed out of the window quickly and recovered her weapons. They were already combing the city. It would only be a matter of time before more of those bastards showed up when the dead guy failed to report back. Leaving the corpse wouldn't do much harm at this point. The building looked like an abandoned restaurant. Indeed, this wasn't the best of neighborhoods. _As if Orochimaru wasn't enough, I don't need to have to worry about some small town cops!_

Sealing her scythe back into its scroll, she disappeared from sight.

* * *

"Are we agreed then?" She asked him. They sat facing each other in the single table that Griffith owned. The small cot that he called home was stifling hot since he had closed the doors and windows to prevent any eavesdropping. With the sudden wealth in his hands, theft suddenly became an issue for him, especially given his unpopularity with people here. He put security in front of comfort, but he barely felt the sweat gathering on his face for Griffith was ecstatic.

"Yes, we are agreed." He answered the Claymore woman. "A third now, another third when we reach the mainland in Fire Country, and the final third when I drop you off in the desert in Wind Country. You pay for all expenses, and I'll serve as interpreter and guide for the whole journey. Now, the money please." He held out his hand and the solid weight of the cloth purse was dropped on it. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that he had made the right decision in not telling the woman to go screw herself. He held more money in his hands now than he would have earned with months of work as a fisherman.

He was no fool though. Not even this godsend of wealth and opportunity could change the fact that Claymores were never to be trusted and deserved nothing from him. Still, he had to do this, as surely as he had to stow on that ship decades ago. A man trapped in quicksand grabbed whatever he could find. And his life here could indeed be described as a pit of quicksand. Besides, interpreting was easy work. _And not to mention free lodging, and free food… _

"Then we have nothing more to talk about." She got up and walked away. "I'm staying onboard the _Snarling Whale_ for as long as she remains in harbor." Bending down, she picked up the satchel that she had left by the door.

"I understand." Griffith replied. He stared in fascination at the stump of her left arm. Did that have anything to do with why she had traveled half a world away just to hide? He didn't plan to ask her, but he wondered all the same. "I'll tell you when the port authorities decide lift the blockade. If it's anytime in the next three days, we can catch the ferry that takes us to the mainland by that time."

"Until then, goodbye." She opened the door and stepped outside. Griffith sighed as a cool breeze blew in and closed his eyes for a moment to savor it. But no slamming of the door was heard and the breeze continued to blow. He opened his eyes and found that Irene was still there, standing outside holding the doorknob. She gave him a questioning look. Wary of whatever it was, he stepped outside as well. Sitting in front of his house was a young woman. She was obviously injured, by the look of the bruises and cuts on her face and arms, and by the way she was leaning against the wall. Whoever she was, she didn't look like she was around here. The woman wore camouflaged pants with a black, bulky vest. Her forearms were covered with armored gauntlets.

He was about to ask if she was all right when Irene pointed to her hands. Griffith noted then that they glowed an unnatural green. She moved her hands over her body. Wherever they touched, injuries would disappear like magic. Finally, she got up and stared at them. "What are you looking at?" She asked unpleasantly. She picked up a discarded cloak on the floor and began walking away.

"Wait! Who are you?" Griffith called out after her. She stopped and gave him an irritated look from her narrowed brown eyes. "Do you need any help?"

She gave him a dismissive chuckle. "The only 'help' I want is if someone offered me a way to magically leave this fucking place, and after that, to magically blow it up. And you probably can't even do the first one, fisherman." She turned around, her long red hair swinging.

"Actually, that explosion a while ago managed to set my boat on fire, so my life as a fisherman is pretty much over." That made her stop. After a moment of silence, she let out a snort of laughter. Griffith and Irene watched in confusion as the woman in front of them collapsed in laughter.

"Your life is over? Yours?" She managed to say that much before laughing some more. The laughter soon dried up though and she wrapped the cloak around her, pulling the hood over her face. She looked at him with a little bit of leftover mirth in her face. "Very funny. Yes, the world can be very…"

The woman's voice trailed off and she looked away. Griffith followed her gaze and looked at three people standing on rooftops. They were far away and it was hard to hard to see their faces.

"…Ironic." The woman said with a grim, humorless smile. The three of them sped forward towards them with alarming speed. Irene reached behind her and pulled out her massive blade.

"Who are they?" Griffith asked her.

"They're my problem." She answered him. She reached into her vest and pulled out a scroll. And before he knew what happened, she was suddenly holding a scythe with a spearhead attached to it. "Actually, by the looks of it, they're your problem too. Looks like your luck really is bad as mine." Indeed, from Griffith's perspective, all three of them were about to be attacked.

The unknown woman gripped her scythe over her head with both hands and charged forward at one of their assailants. As the distance closed, she suddenly stuck her weapon down, the spear lodging into the dirt. The force propelled her body like a catapult and she flew forward with her legs ready to deliver a flying kick. At the same time, the man, (he was close enough for Griffith to make out now) jumped down from the edge of a roof. They clashed together in midair. He blocked the kick with his arm and the two of them traded several rapid punches in the space of a second. Finally, both of them simultaneously kicked at the other, the force of their blows sending them both backwards. The man landed back on the roof and the woman perched on top of her weapon. They glared death at each other.

Meanwhile, another one of the attackers leapt down towards Irene. She stood ready to defend herself. Besides the sword, the only other thing she kept from her previous life was a vow not to kill a human being. Her assailant charged forward, holding a kunai in a reverse-grip. Their blades clashed as Irene parried the blow. The man pushed but found no give. Irene's sword refused to be budged. He jumped backwards and regarded her warily.

His left hand reached into the pouch hanging from his hip and took out three more kunai, which he flung at her. Irene swatted them aside with her sword, but the man was already in motion, rushing forward at the temporary opening in her defenses. Faster than he would have thought possible, Irene backhanded him with the flat of her blade and sent him flying.

The remaining Sound ninja took note of the strange woman's power and advanced on Griffith. Griffith looked around desperately but could find nothing to use as a weapon. He held his hands before him. "Wait!" He shouted. "This is a mistake. We're not the ones-" A thrown kunai was the only response he got. There was the sudden twang as metal hit metal. Griffith stared at the two knives on the ground. Then he looked at where the mystery woman was busy fighting. Irene suddenly appeared before him, shielding him. The ninja smirked and threw a smoke bomb at the two of them. It caught them by surprise and they coughed, their eyes watering. When the smoke cleared, the man was nowhere to be seen. Irene felt hands gripping her ankles. And then the ground rose up to meet her. She grunted as her body was suddenly pulled down until her chin met the Earth.

Behind her, the ninja burst out of the ground and came at her, intending to rid himself of this dangerous foe before turning on the helpless fisherman. He was within arms length of her when a blast of power from the earth knocked him off off-balance, sending him backwards. He recovered his footing and watched as the earth around the woman erupted. Quickly, her arm came up and pressed against the ground, rocketing her body upward. The man readied himself with increasing trepidation as the woman turned her inhuman gaze upon him.

She rushed forward with a speed that he could not begin to counter and slugged him hard in the face. He landed with a thud, unconscious like his partner. Griffith had also been knocked off his feet by the blast, and remained sitting. Irene turned around to offer him a hand, but he recoiled.

Those eyes! They were the slit, amber eyes of a demon!

**To be Continued**


	3. New Kids on the Block III

**Chapter 3

* * *

**

Mikuru's duel continued. She wielded her spear with all the skill she could muster, jabbing at perceived opening and making spectacular slashes with the wickedly sharp scythe blade. Her opponent was equally skilled, blocking and thrusting with a pair of kunai. The two of them traded blows until the advantage swung in Mikuru's favor. Gripping the weapon horizontally, Mikuru smashed the shaft of the spear against the man's left leg. A mask that only left his eyes exposed covered his face, but she could tell that she had hurt him. Without delay, she swung the same end of the spear up, connecting with his chin. The man hobbled backwards.

Mikuru charged forward, with her weapon primed for a swing. She swung. Both kunai came up and parried. Now the two of them were face to face, each pushing against the other. To her surprise, Mikuru found that the other ninja was not as stunned as she had thought. With great effort, he pushed her back. Mikuru hopped backwards. Instead of charging her in return, the Sound ninja threw both knives at her, one and then the other. Her own weapon angled to deflect them both. But by then, his hands were already making seals. Mikuru saw this clearly, her eyes flashing in alarm.

_The seal of the tiger…_ She jumped up quickly, and the ground beneath her erupted into flames. On the way up, her left hand gripped the roof of Griffith's cot. With a push, she somersaulted into the rooftop, and crouched down like a cat. "So, you know Katon jutsu." She muttered. "Interesting." She didn't expect a Sound ninja to know that one, but it didn't do him a lot of good. "How's that leg of yours?"

"Surrender." The response came from below. "We know who you are and what you can do. Even if you win here, my comrades will catch you. You've spent too much time fighting here. You can't beat us all."

"You know who I am?" She laughed derisively. "And you ask me to surrender myself to Orochimaru? Don't fuck with me!" She descended upon him with full fury. Once more, she rained blows upon him that forced the man to block and backpedal. Each time he did, pain shot up his wounded leg. A jab of the spear was not fully blocked and the sharp edge made a small cut on his hand. When Mikuru made a thrust a second time, he found that his arm would not move. The spear skewered him in the chest. Mikuru held it in as the man's body rapidly cooled and pulled out. She breathed deeply and gave a satisfied nod to herself.

* * *

Griffith pulled himself off the ground and looked defiantly into Irene's eyes. She was nonplused by the hostile glare. "Who are these people? Do you know?"

Griffith watched as their mystery woman battled. "From the looks of it, they're ninja." He started explaining before Irene could ask him again. "Ninja are the soldiers in this part of the world. Or mercenaries. I've only seen a handful, but compared to ordinary people, they're incredibly strong." He saw the flash of fire and they both ducked quickly. The fireball passed them by and exploded behind them. He got up in time to see the woman running her opponent through. "Well, if you want answers…" He pointed at her. "Be my guest."

Griffith and Irene ran up to her. "Oh? The two of you still here?" She asked sardonically.

"Who were these men?" Griffith asked her brusquely, ignoring her tone. "What did they want? Who are you?"

"They want nothing from you two. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time." She answered. "It's me they want. Best you don't know more than that. I'd run, very fast." She turned her back on them and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Griffith shouted, reckoning her to stop. "Where would we go? If what that one said was true, then there are more of them."

"Figure it out yourself. I'm busy." She started to turn away again.

"Dammit, don't you walk away with me!" Angry and frustrated at this day's events, Griffith channeled it at this woman. He laid his hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him again. "You're the reason why we're involved in this mess so how about you-"

Mikuru punched him in the gut hard enough to send him flying back. He landed and groaned. Mikuru pointed her spear at him nonchalantly. "How about you shut up and leave me alone?" At that point, Irene decided that she had observed enough and had to act, before any harm came to her hired guide. She moved in front of Griffith and parried the weapon away from him. Sword and scythe clanged. The two of them stared at each other.

"There's no need to be hostile. Right now, we have a common enemy." Irene's speech was incomprehensible to Mikuru, but the woman's calm voice bade her to listen. "It seems that you are trying to flee from them through the port. We can help you." Griffith caught his breath and stood up. Irene looked at him. "Tell her what I just said." Griffith nodded, not very happy but complying anyway.

Mikuru listened to his translation. With much distrust, she spoke to the strange woman through the fisherman. "And how can you help me?"

"I came off of one of those ships there today. If escape from danger is what you seek, I can get it for you. But tell us what is going on."

Griffith balked at her offer, but complied. Mikuru looked at the two of them, truly looked at them. The man looked like an unhappy bystander caught in the middle of something. The woman seemed like an enigma, a stranger. Neither seemed trustworthy, but the more she thought about what she had in mind, the more she came to accept that outside help was necessary if she wanted to get the hell out of this place safely. _And since there's only one other ship that docked today other than mine._

_Time for a change of plans._ "Alright, I agree." She answered with a small nod. "But we have to move quickly. More of them will be here soon." She rested the spear on her shoulder and stalked towards one the unconscious men.

Griffith watched her go and turned on Irene. "What the hell are you doing?" He all but shouted at her, though he kept his voice barely above a whisper. There was no confusing the worry and frustration on his face. "That woman's nothing but trouble."

Irene responded to his hostility with serenity. Griffith was coming to hate that about her. It seemed like nothing could faze this woman, not even being set on fire. "True, but it doesn't look like we can untangle ourselves from this." Irene watched him closely, sensing that his fears were not allayed. Knowing the importance of this man's loyalty to her, she tried harder. "Out of all the strangers, she's the only one who didn't look at us with the intent to kill. In fact, didn't she save your life?"

Griffith's brows furrowed, but in a thoughtful expression and not a scowl. The Claymore woman had spoken truth, but still… "Nevertheless, why attach ourselves to trouble? Let's just get out of here and-"

"Where would we go?" Irene interrupted him. "Where would we go to hide from these people? Look at their clothing. What do you notice?"

"They wear uniforms?"

"Exactly." Irene said. In the background, Mikuru was kicking at one of the unconscious men. "Uniforms mean organization. In other words, there will definitely be others from the same organization seeking us. This woman knows more about the situation and the enemy, more than us. We will need that knowledge to get out of this troublesome situation."

"She doesn't seem like the dependable type to me."

"Don't worry. I haven't forgotten our goal. As soon as possible, we will resume our own course. But getting out of this place is a priority."

"If you're done with your chatting, then start moving." Mikuru yelled at them. "The enemy won't wait."

Mikuru walked over to the summoning scroll discarded on the ground. She kicked it into the air. The hand holding the spear went up and grabbed. She twirled the weapon until paper and metal spun together and the weapon disappeared in a puff of smoke. Meanwhile, Griffith examined the body of the dead man. The body seemed more like a grotesque statue than a corpse, frozen in its last moments of life. He held the man's fingers in his hand. They weren't cold. They were freezing.

At last, she turned to Griffith again. "Come on, let's go." She grabbed his arm and ran. "They're watching all the exits by land and I'm only gambling that they don't have too many people watching the port. We need to move, fast." Griffith looked one last time at Irene. _This is really what you want? What's best for us?_

He stopped and grabbed her arm. "Wait!" He shouted, hoping that this course of action was the correct one. "There is another way."

* * *

For the third time in a day, Mikuru found herself in a tunnel. This one was no better than the last one. A single, burning candle was all the light that she could see. The man who dissuaded her from making a rush for the docks took the lead as he guided the three of them through the tunnel.

"And you're sure this tunnel goes where it's supposed to?" She asked him again.

"Yeah. A couple of years ago, all shipping in this country was dominated by a single company." He started to explain. "Tunnels like this one were used to smuggle goods from incoming ships when they docked."

"Used to? You mean this tunnel isn't used anymore?"

"Well, after the monopoly on shipping was broken, this place really prospered." Griffith left it at that. His own dubious role in Gatou's criminal empire was none of her business. "When they were building new warehouses near the docks, the entrance on the other end just so happened to be where that was, and was incidentally paved over with cement."

Mikuru glared at him. "And you just happened to mention this now?"

"Well, I assumed that since you're a ninja, you could do what that other guy did." He responded as best as he could. Apparently, his assumption was wrong. "You know, go underground and take us up with you?"

"What?" Mikuru asked incredulously. She started to explain that such things weren't her area of expertise when an idea came to her. "No, you…Fine, it's fine. I can do it." An uneasy silence came over the two of them. It didn't help that Irene didn't have anything to say. Griffith guided them through the tunnels. He drew from his memories of the few times he made use of them. Even though it had been years since he had stepped foot here things hadn't changed, and he remembered it all clearly.

"You never did say what your name was, or even why those men were chasing us." Griffith spoke.

"You want to know? Well, I suppose you're earned a bit of trust." She supposed that the basics wouldn't hurt. "My name is Mikuru. I am an agent of the Hidden Mist Village. I'm being hunted by Sound ninja. That's all I'm prepared to say."

"And you won't tell me why there these people are trying to kill us?"

"I think the less you know right now, the better." Mikuru turned around and glanced at the woman behind her. Her stance, her movements. There was something about her that made Mikuru wary. "And what about the two of you?"

"Griffith. As you said, I'm just a fisherman." He said. Now he wondered just how he was going to explain to her about that damned Claymore.

"I'll accept that." Mikuru answered, and got to the point of the matter. "And what about her?"

"Well, she's newly arrived here, looking for a new life. She hired me as a guide." Griffith replied, unwilling to talk too much on the subject.

"You can speak to her. You come from the same place as her? Across the vast ocean?" Mikuru continued her probing. The woman's foreign origins could explain why she was so unusual, so exotic.

"Yes. That's all I know." He answered her.

"Huh, care to explain how she swings a sword as big as herself, or pushing herself out of the ground with one arm?" Mikuru wasn't convinced. This fisherman knew more than he was letting on, more than he was willing to say. She could hear the lie in the monotony of his voice.

"You can ask her yourself later. All I have to say is that she's not human. This is it." Griffith was annoyed. Who was this woman to demand answers of him when she wouldn't even tell him why they were being hunted?

Behind him, Mikuru reached the same conclusion. She wasn't going to get any more answers and had probably exhausted what little goodwill she had. And again, there was silence. Behind both of them, Irene noted the exchange of incomprehensible words but said nothing. She thought it was likely the discussion revolved around her. How many times had she passed through a place and heard people muttering to themselves as she passed? And so, she changed the subject. "And you're sure that we're above a warehouse near the dock?"

The path stopped abruptly as they reached the end of the tunnel. Before them was a wall of dirt. "Yes." Griffith looked at her. He had done his part. Now it was time to see if the girl would do hers. "Now if you please."

Mikuru looked up and smiled. Her hands and fingers moved rapidly. "Get ready." Griffith and Irene watched as the girl's body hunched over. Then they both heard the roar of a flood as water started to quickly fill up the little hole in the earth the three of them occupied. Griffith cursed loudly as he suddenly fought against the fear of drowning in such a place as the force of the flood made him lose his footing. His arms and legs flailed as he adjusted. Behind him, Irene fared better. Her arm shot out with great speed and grabbed a support beam above her before the tide hit her. The tide that Griffith expected to engulf his head didn't arrive. Instead, giant swirling pillars of water shot up and slammed into the hard earth and stone above them. Out of Mikuru's mouth the flood continued. Four pillars of water drilled at the earth above her and splattered mud messily. She manipulated the flow of the flood. The water beneath them lifted them up as more and more soil was dislodged.

The light of the candle had been extinguished. The three of them floated higher and higher in darkness. And then there was light above. The water gushed through the opening in the ground and the three of them were dumped messily on the ground, wet and coughing. Mikuru looked around at their surroundings. Crates all around, stacked together. It looked like exactly what the fisherman had promised. Except for the eight Sound ninja gawking at them.

"Ah," Mikuru stated the obvious. "An ambush party." The trio stared at them. They stared back. And all hell broke loose.

"It's her!" One of them exclaimed. "Get them!" The eight of them started to charge. Griffith and Irene readied themselves for another fight but Mikuru stepped forward.

"Don't worry." She told them. A summoning scroll was unrolled. Her hands reached forward quickly. Mikuru stood her ground with arms across her chest and her hands gripped eight kunai like black claws. The grin she wore was not a healthy one. "I can handle this." She released them all with a throw from both arms. The eight knives struck the ground right in front of the advancing enemies, each one attached to a paper tag. Before anyone could react, the ground exploded and filled the warehouse with a gush of rapidly freezing water.

"Ice?" Griffith asked incredulously. The eight ninja were frozen solid, completely incased under a layer of ice. Their surroundings were also frozen. Everything the exploding gushes of water touched had been frozen instantly. Mikuru just cackled and ran, taking the two onlookers by the arms. They burst out of the warehouse and found themselves near the dock, as planned.

"There!" Mikuru pointed at a small boat, the only one visible with a motor. The three of them ran forward. Their intent was so obvious that Irene understood it despite the language barrier. "We have to move. Get on that boat!" Around them, people were already starting to gather around. The trio raced for the boat and hopped in. Mikuru got the motor working when she saw swiftly moving figures jumping from rooftop to rooftop. She had to squint to see them clearly, but the unnaturally pale face was unmistakable. She gulped and looked back at the guy in front. "Drive. Get us out of here."

The boat pulled away from the shore, cutting through the water at its top speed. Mikuru played her last trick. "I hope this works." She muttered. "Kirigakure no Jutsu." The shoreline, the horizon, and the ocean itself were obscured by thick mist until nothing was visible.

From the shore, people watched as the mist from the sea covered all sight of the horizon. And then, as quickly as it came, the mist vanished, leaving no trace of the boat. The first group of Sound ninja looked at the ocean, stupefied.

"Where'd they go?" One of them questioned. "Orders, Captain?"

But the captain had no orders to give. The captain heard urgent footsteps behind him and turned around. His face paled. Someone had to answer for this, and he hoped it wasn't him. He and the rest of his squad kneeled and bowed. "Lord Orochimaru…"

* * *

Beneath the rolling waves a giant leviathan surfaced. Its blowhole sprayed water like a geyser while its huge maw opened. A small boat smoothly sailed out of the giant's mouth. All three occupants, looking filthy and haggard, greedily sucked in fresh air.

"Damn it, woman!" Griffith bellowed while wiping whale saliva from his face. "Next time you conjure up a brilliant, magical solution to our problem, you mind giving us a warning? When I saw its mouth close around us, I thought that _thing_ was eating us alive!"

"Oh, shut up." Mikuru turned around to bellow back straight in Griffith's face. "I hardly had any time to explain my plan. In case you forgot, we were busy running away from people trying to kill us! And besides, we're all alive. So quit your whining." The giant whale behind them dove until all that could be seen was its tail. For a time, there was silence as each of them contemplated what had happened, and what was yet to happen.

"Then, we're safe?" Griffith asked calmly, translating for Irene.

"Safe?" Mikuru shook her head. "Not really. Your mercy earlier was not very wise. Your face is known to them. You can't return to your old life." Her words made him really think, about the life he led there, and the life he's had so far.

"That's alright." He replied without a hint of regret. "The truth is that I didn't have much to return to anyway."

"Is that true for the both of you?" Mikuru asked him. He turned to Irene and spoke. The blonde woman turned to her and simply nodded. She decided then and there that she liked these two. "I see. The present then, and the future."

Before anybody could say anything else, the giant leviathan surfaced, with its gapping maw ready to swallow them again. "Holy shit!" Griffith shouted and bolted to the engine to get it started again. "What the hell is that thing still doing here?"

"Idiot!" Mikuru rushed to stop him. The two fought over the engine, swaying the little boat side to side. Irene just sat and looked at them. Their group dynamic certainly was interesting. Meanwhile, the giant mouth gained on them. "Do you really think this little boat is going to get us anywhere? Back in the mouth! It's the only way."

"I don't care! That thing's scary and stinks like a sewer!"

"Just be a man and take it!"

_What are those two doing?_

The mouth closed around them, and the three disappeared beneath the rippling blue sea.

**To be Continued**


End file.
